


Day 9: Kiss

by thebright1



Series: An Ineffable Plan: A Canon Compliant Love Story [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Hell, Ineffable Valentines 2020 (Good Omens), M/M, The War Between Heaven and Hell, Why Crawly Can't Be Nice, Ze/zer pronouns for Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebright1/pseuds/thebright1
Summary: “There,” he says, with a self satisfied look. “Now we can always find each other if we need to.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/crawly
Series: An Ineffable Plan: A Canon Compliant Love Story [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620406
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137





	Day 9: Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> All the works in this series are also posted as a chaptered work for easier reading/downloading (and because I connected all the stories and should have done it this way to begin with): [ An Ineffable Plan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081191/chapters/55213303)

4004 BC

“It wouldn’t be funny at all!”

Crawly shrugs. “Just trying to see the bright side of things. After all, it’s done now.” He can’t believe this angel gave away his flaming sword to God’s new pets. There’s got to be a thousand heavenly bylaws about physical property. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance. The angel glances at him again, warily. “Yes, well, I suppose you’d have to,” he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re a demon. It’s not . . . It’s not an enviable position to be in. I mean, from what I understand.”

Crawly scowls. “Yeah and what do you know about it?” The angel is silent. Crawly huffs. “At least I don’t have to put up with all the sanctimonious bullshit and rules that your lot do anymore.”

“No, you don’t,” he says simply. “Instead you have to deal with Hell. Michael says it’s not very nice.”

Crawly snorts. _What does Michael know?_ He remembers zer, the traitor. Ze should have fallen with the rest of them. Michael had questions, too. But ze had only whispered them to other angels. When the time had come to take a stand, ze had let Lucifer take the Fall. Literally. 

The first raindrops begin to hit. “That’s cold!” Crawly exclaims. The drops feel like ice against his skin. He shivers. The water in the Garden had been warm when he’d slithered in. He thought all water was supposed to be warm. 

The angel stretches out a wing. “Come under here,” he motions. “I’ll keep you dry.”

Crawly is suspicious, but grateful for the shelter. He steps closer, under the angel’s wing. “It doesn’t feel cold to you?” he asks, curious. He knows they are different now, after the Fall, knows he lost some things and gained others, but he’s not exactly sure of all the differences. No one in Hell has a clue what’s going on. Satan found out about the Garden and the humans and Crawly was one of the few standing around not writhing in pain, plotting a second rebellion to get back into Heaven, or trying to gnaw his own arm off, so up he went. They’ve only been down there a little over a week. Hell is absolute chaos. 

“It is cold,” the angel admits. “But it’s tolerable. Even feels a little refreshing.”

Crawly steps closer to the angel. He has a peculiar feeling in his stomach. “What’s your name?”

“Oh!” the angel looks embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry! That’s so rude of me.” He waves a hand at Crawly. The rain is coming down in sheets now. The angel is soaked to his skin. Crawly, under his wing, is mostly dry. “I’m Aziraphale, Principality and Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“Aziraphale,” Crawly says, letting the syllables roll in his mouth. “What are you guarding the gate from, Aziraphale?”

“You know, no one ever told me. I mean, you didn’t come in through the gate, so I guess it wasn’t you.”

“Typical management,” Crawly says. “Just send a fellow to work, give him a flaming sword and say ‘Good luck!’ No onboarding, no instructions. Did they even introduce you to Adam and Eve?”

Aziraphale dithers. “Gabriel is very busy in the aftermath of everything. God, too. She just told me-“

“She spoke to you directly?” Crawly asks, a little in awe. He remembers trying to talk to God. When She’d first created the angels She was always around. Crawly remembers long discussions with Her, remembers taking stars from Her and moving them around in the sky. _How should I arrange them, Mother? Oh, whatever you like best._ Then more and more angels arrived and it was harder and harder to see Her. Crawly hadn’t wanted to chat much, he pretty much knew what he should be doing, but he had had several questions. He reached out, but there was only silence. No answers from Her and definitely none from Gabriel, the prick.

“Yes, doesn’t that always happen?”

“Were you born yesterday?”

“No, it was a little over a week ago.”

Crawly doesn’t know how to respond to this. He takes schadenfreude in the fact that whatever is going on in Heaven seems to be just as confusing as Hell right now. “So you- you weren’t around for the War?” 

“Oh no,” Azriaphale says cheerfully. “Afraid I just missed it.”

“Lucky you,” Crawly mutters. 

“I suppose so. I don’t think I would be very good in a war, I’m a being of love.”

Crawly snorts. “We all were.” 

Aziraphale is peeking at him from the corner of his eye nervously. The rain has petered down to a soft drizzle. His blonde curls stick to his forehead. Crowley thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He begins to reproach himself for the thought, thinking of all of God’s amazing creations, all the ones he helped with, but then he remembers he’s a demon now, and decides to go with it. This angel is beautiful. And special.

“So what exactly did God say to you?”

“Well, She said that I was supposed to come here to Earth, and that I should look after the humans. I said I wasn’t sure how to care for humans, but She said it would be obvious. Then She gave me a flaming sword and sent me to Gabriel for directions on how to get here.” 

“So what is your assignment now?” 

“Well. . .” Aziraphale considers. “It hasn’t really changed.”

“But there’s not much point in guarding the gate anymore.” 

The rain stops. Aziraphale flutters his wing gracefully, gently shaking the raindrops out. Crawly is almost completely dry. “That rain felt quite nice, but these robes aren’t very comfortable when they’re wet.” 

Crawly eyes Aziraphale, that peculiar feeling in his belly stirring again. The white robes have turned translucent from the rain. They cling to Aziraphale’s figure which is . . . magnificent. Crawly can see the curve of his belly, the sweep of his arse. He’s never seen a figure like this. His own corporation is all pointy, sharp edges. Eve had looked somewhat soft like this, but he’s never seen a male corporation with all these graceful arches and dips. He wants to reach out and touch the angel. He looks soft. Would he be soft? Would he let Crawly squeeze him gently in all those soft places? Crawly wants to. Crawly looks up and catches the angel’s eyes. “Allow me,” he says, to cover his staring. He leans towards Aziraphale and blows a blast of warm air. He winks because he thinks it looks cool. The angel’s robes are dry and warm. 

Aziraphale looks down at his robes in delight. “Oh, that’s so nice-”

“Don’t!” Crawly shouts, panic welling up inside him. He hears a sound like a thousand bees buzzing in his skull, puts his hands up to cover his ears, as if it would do any good. It’s the same sound he heard when he Fell, and he shudders with the memory. 

Aziraphale steps back, alarmed. “What?”

“You can’t say that,” Crawly says. “Never, never, ever say that, not to me, not ever, do you understand? I’m a demon. I’m not nice. I’m never nice. I can’t be nice. It’s not allowed.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale says. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Crawly spits. “I’m a demon. I don’t accept apologies. There’s no forgiveness in Hell.”

Aziraphale frowns. It’s a terrible look on him. Crawly wishes he could take the words back. “All right, I understand.” 

An awkward silence hangs between them. The sun is starting to set. They watch Adam and Eve in the distance. They’re setting up camp. The silence lengthens.

Crawly opens his mouth and says “Look, Aziraphale-“ at the same time that Aziraphale says “Crawly, could we-“

They stop, looking at one another. Crawly waves his hand for Aziraphale to continue. 

“Well what is your plan, demon?”

Crawly shrugs. “Not sure. Keep making trouble? Bit tough if I don’t know exactly what I should and shouldn't be doing, or what the humans _shouldn’t_ be doing.” 

Aziraphale nods in understanding. “I can see how it would be.”

“I guess I could keep asking them questions.” 

Aziraphale looks at him in confusion. “Is that all you did?” 

Crawly raises an eyebrow appraisingly. “You are new.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the rules yet. Gabriel said there would be a meeting after he finished sorting everything out after uhm. . . the War.” 

Crawly sighs. “Well, I can give you one piece of advice: don’t ask too many questions of people upstairs, especially Gabriel. Unless you’d like to find out if you’d look half so good with black wings instead of white ones.” He winks at the angel again, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem nearly as pleased. 

“Is there something wrong with your eye? I mean, apart from the snake bits?”

So much for his cool new move. “Yeah, had something in it,” he lies. 

“Oh, let me see.” The angel steps forward, places both hands on either side of Crawly’s face, bringing it within inches of his own. He stares deeply into Crawly’s left eye. Crawly is aware of the close proximity of their bodies. Aziraphale’s belly brushes his own ever so slightly, and Crawly wants suddenly to close the distance between them, to be skin to skin, as he’s seen the humans do. He wants to get as close as he possibly can to Aziraphale. To this angel who gave his flaming sword to the humans because, per God’s Ineffable Plan, that seemed like the most obvious thing to do. 

“Well, I don’t see anything,” Aziraphale pronounces. “Although you do have lovely yellow eyes, my dear.” 

There’s that feeling in the pit of Crawly’s stomach again. “Thanks angel,” he says automatically, then pauses, suddenly unsure. “Do you think I shouldn’t have said that?” He thinks of Ardomicus, poor bugger. She’d been tending to the Fallen, the ones who’d gone out of their mind in the absence of God’s love. She had spent time reassuring them all that God did love them, She would take them back, She was just angry. Satan had plucked all the feathers from her wings, then tossed her back in the boiling sulfur for good measure _. There is no going back and no forgiveness_. 

“Well, I guess you don’t have to thank me in the future,” Aziraphale says. “I’ll just know you mean to and you can just not say it. I don’t want to get you into trouble. I mean . . .” He drifts off, looking at Crawly. “Oh you look so lovely in the sunset, my dear. Your hair and eyes just light up.”

Crawly has been numb inside since the Fall. It’s how he’s been able to manage. How he was able to stand up, cough, and look around at all the pain and misery around him and not go mad. There’s a space inside him where God’s love used to fill everything up, and it’s a hollow empty cavern there. But Aziraphale says _my dear_ and Crawly feels an echo inside him. A tiny, small spark. 

_That is the kind of thing that will get you killed, you idiot. Or worse._

“Angel, we are on opposite sides.”

Aziraphale frowns again. “I know that!”

This angel has a lot to learn. “When is your next meeting with Gabriel?” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale says. “Soon, I should think. I really didn’t get an orientation at all, as you pointed out. I’ve just been winging it, but God has faith in me, and I have faith in Her.” He smiles. That echo reverberates within him. Oh, no, this is very not good at all. 

“Well, I should get going,” Crawly says. 

Aziraphale looks incredibly disappointed. “Oh, you’re going. Where?”

“Well. . .” He thinks. “Back to Hell, I guess. Maybe take a little walk around Earth. First time I’ve been here and all.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale says automatically. “I- uhm, I should stay here.” He gestures to where Adam and Eve have set up camp. “Look after them, you know. But. . .” He hesitates. “I would like to. . . To keep in contact, somehow.”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, angel. I’m supposed to be causing trouble for the humans and you’re supposed to be protecting them from it.” 

“Professional adversaries, yes,” Aziraphale agrees. “Do you think that means we can’t be . . . Well, professional about the whole thing, at least?”

Crawly is not sure what Aziraphale means by professional. He’s about to say so when Aziraphale steps forward and suddenly presses his lips to Crawly’s own. Crawly is so surprised he doesn’t respond in any way, just stands there, unmoving, dumbfounded. He will replay this moment in his mind a million times in the next 6000 years and curse his inexperience, his fear, his anxiety. Crawly feels a tingling sensation buzz in the base of his spine. It’s not unpleasant, just surprising. Unexpected. Before he has time to register anything else, Aziraphale pulls back. 

“There,” he says, with a self satisfied look. “Now we can always find each other if we need to.”

“Why do you think we’re going to need to find each other?”

“It’s a very large world. And as you said, I’m meant to be thwarting you, and you’re meant to be causing problems for me, right? Just easier for both of us if we know where the other is. Can’t thwart you if I can’t find you.” He smiles. “And. . . you’ve been. . .” He searches for a phrase. “I have enjoyed talking with you.” 

Crawly absolutely needs to leave right now and possibly never see this angel again if he wants to stay alive. But he also absolutely needs to see Aziraphale again if he wants to keep his sanity and not lose himself in that deep chasm inside him. 

He nods. “Same here, Angel.”

He leaves and manages to somehow avoid Aziraphale for the next 1000 years. It’s the first time he feels Aziraphale’s distress signal, planted deep inside him where God’s love used to dwell, with that gentle kiss. He comes immediately.   
  


FIN

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued in Day 11.


End file.
